


Blowing Off Steam

by HyperKid



Series: Critter Gods [7]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Archfey are bad at people, Crack, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid
Summary: Travelercon is coming close, and Artagan’s busy in the worst possible ways. He needs an adult to remember why he keeps telling Jester they can’t just kill everyone else.
Relationships: Cleric & Patron, wildmother & Caduceus Clay
Series: Critter Gods [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1397104
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Blowing Off Steam

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Before anyone asks, yes, I will be doing one of these for 108, but I am still on podcast time and a week behind.   
> Mollymauk: Can I be in it?   
> HK: That would kinda be cheating.   
> Mollymauk: But you love me.   
> HK: And you’re not in any of the rest of these.   
> Mollymauk: But I wanna be in one.   
> HK: We’ll see. Maybe.   
> Mollymauk: I knew I was your favourite. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Not really anything today, it’s weird. Swearing? 
> 
> Disclaimer: I still don’t own Critical Role or any of the characters but hey

They really hadn’t been expecting to see the Traveler again until after Traveler Con. Their little house was as good a place to watch the event as any, and the Wildmother at least had a passing curiosity in how this Vokodo their Nein had met would be dealt with. 

The Storm Lord had no doubts in his barbarian, but certainly wasn’t against watching her in action. In all honesty, they’d rather expected to have a quiet week or so. 

And then the door pushed open enough for a mane of red hair to poke around it. 

“Can’t stay, but I need your thoughts on something,” Artagan explained brusquely, shooting the pair a dazzling smile. 

Surprised but not unhappy to see him, the other two turned from their place at the table. 

“Yes?” The Wildmother asked, glancing to the kitchen. Whenever Artagan asked for advice, it was usually wise to have something handy. Calming chamomile tea, popcorn to throw, something. 

The archfey swung in, not bothering to close the door behind him; he really didn’t have long amongst his other duties. Certainly not long enough to beat around the bush. 

“Can I just... kill all those followers of mine? Jester keeps suggesting it, and I’ve told her no, but now I just can’t stop thinking about it. They’re very sweet but it would be soooo much easier than all this “shepherding them around” nonsense.” 

Arranging transport for 200 followers had been a challenge that he’d never really faced before, and one without an ounce of fun. He’d considered putting a few on the wrong boats just for shits and giggles, but that’d just lead to yet more responsibility in the long run. 

Kord and Melora exchanged a speaking look. They’d been... looking forward to Travelercon, for pretty much this exact reason. And anticipating this exact problem. 

Artagan was gentle for an archfey, not disposed to the same casual killing or soul destroying others of his kind had made a name on. He liked his pranks, his casual fuckery, but on the whole he just wasn’t aggressive. He didn’t like to fight and he didn’t particularly care to physically hurt anyone. 

But he could also usually just leave. Just turn around and dip out on a situation that no longer suited his fancy. He didn’t have to stay, or deal with anyone for a minute longer than he cared to, and that responsibility was visibly weighing on him. 

The Storm Lord turned back to face him, a grave expression on his face. 

“You can absolutely just kill them. Mortals die, it’s what they do.” 

Artagan’s jaw dropped. Stifling a laugh, the Wildmother swatted the other god’s arm from across the table. 

“Kord! We are supposed to be a good influence!” She chastised them both. 

The Storm Lord raised an eyebrow at her, fighting a smile of his own. 

“Because you’re so gentle and careful with your followers?” He asked pointedly and Melora hesitated. 

They were much less directly involved in their followers’ lives than Artagan, but... he had a point. With her Clay, with all her followers, they all knew that the natural order of the world included death and would one day include theirs. If they died on their paths she welcomed them, but did nothing much to prevent it. 

Which wasn’t the same as directly murdering them, but the difference was quite hard to articulate. 

Huffing to herself she raised a hand quickly to cast a spell. 

“Sehanine, please come down, the Traveler’s visiting and I need someone to remind him and the rest of us why we don’t just kill mortals because I’m out of ideas.” It took a real effort to keep the smile off her face, despite the ostensibly serious topic. 

The Moonweaver wasn’t necessarily ~better~ at explaining such intricacies, but... well, she had left one of her temples to a rampaging demogorgon for decades without warning her followers what they’d be getting into. She felt a bit of a hypocrite trying to talk Artagan down. 

The archfey himself wasn’t really bothering to hide his own snickered, now leaning in the doorway. Not quite the in and out he’d imagined, but frankly this was more interesting anyway. And a blessed relief from endless boats. 

There was a moment of collective silence waiting for a response, the men politely quiet for Melora to focus. When it came, it wasn’t especially helpful, but Sehanine did sound very amused. 

*I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment my dear, I’m sure you can manage. Point out how much of a mess it’ll make.* 

Some of Melora’s exasperation must have shown on her face, because Kord gave her his most innocent smile. 

“Is the Moonweaver coming, Wildmother?” He asked ever so sweetly. 

Abandoning discretion in favour of a snort of laughter, the Wildmother rose and grabbed the teapot. 

“She said to remind you that it would make a mess. Blood never does like to wash out,” she told the Traveler, crossing to the sink to fill the pot. “I’m going to need some fucking tea if we’re doing this.” 

“Ah, and if you kill your followers, her Clay can make all of them into more tea,” Kord added, nodding sagely. All the bushy beard in the world couldn’t hide that fucking grin, or the crackling sparks between his teeth. 

It set Artagan snickering anyway and he straightened, a hand already raised in farewell. 

“As appreciative as I am of all this wisdom and advice, if I don’t want to kill any of them I really must run. There’s some dragon turtle that’s been bothering a few boats and apparently it’s up to me to do something about it.” 

A pensive smile spread across his face, which was never really a good sign. 

“Perhaps I can do something else to get our dear Moonweaver’s attention back. I have missed her.” 

Seriousness taking over his face once more, Kord leaned forward and rapped on the table for attention. 

“You are not going to kill them, are you?” He asked sternly. All levity aside, and he had absolutely no intention of making Artagan’s life easier by taking his current troubles seriously, it was best to be sure. 

Part of being a god was knowing that your followers died, and for some part of being a god was having that sacrifice in your name. But nobody was looking for another Vecna situation, and Artagan had been quite clear that he definitely didn’t want to be a god. 

A little attention, yes, he was a slut for it, but godhood? Too much work. Too much responsibility. The archfey was practically allergic. 

Grin spreading wider across his face, Artagan waved him off. 

“No, no, of course not! I was going to fob them off on that volcano boy, but it seems our little band have killed him. Could still be a good idea though. Find another god for them to bother. Are either of you free?” 

Again, Wildmother and Storm Lord shared a look, once again trying to hide smiles. They’d had very little to do with any of his followers directly, but the sheer fact that they were drawn to the Traveler... 

“No thank you,” Kord said quickly, leaning back in his seat, “I’m sure I’m too stuffy for them.” 

“And I’m certainly much too presumptuous,” Melora teased, settling to lean against the counter with the teapot in her hands, ostensibly checking through their selection of teas while watching Artagan from the corner of her eye. 

He blew her a kiss as he turned to the door, bestowing a sparkling smile on both. 

“All with love, my dears, all with love. Do let me know if Sehanine comes by, it’s been far too long. I’d almost think she was avoiding me,” he added airily as he swept out, not bothering to shut the door behind him. 

Since she was already up, Melora sent a sharp breeze to close the door and just maybe dump Artagan’s hood over his head for good measure. Tea selected, she made her way back to the table with the teapot in hand, the water within beginning to boil as she set it down. 

“It’s going to be quite the week, isn’t it?” She asked Kord with a heavy sigh, settling back into her comfortable chair. The Storm Lord grinned at her, rising to fetch a mug of his own. 

“You knew what you signed up for when you didn’t kick his ass the moment he arrived,” he pointed out gently, pausing at the cabinet. “Sugar?” 

About to refuse, Melora remembered the days to come. Travelercon. Then that strange astral city her young Caduceus had asked about. Maybe it would be worth a deeper discussion with Sehanine; as the goddess of secrets, if anyone would have an insight it would likely be her. 

It certainly couldn’t hurt to have a more concrete answer the next time Clay asked. 

She sighed and nodded, pushing her chair back onto its hind legs. 

“Please. I have the feeling we’re going to need a lot of it in the coming days.” 

Chuckling softly Kord made his way back to the table, bringing the sugar and a tray of baked tarts. 

“It’s going to be entertaining, certainly. I think it’ll be good for all of them too. A touch of responsibility, and a chance to let loose.” 

“They could certainly use it,” Melora agreed with a wry smile, putting the tea leaves into the hot water and leaving them to steep. “I’d almost say we could use it ourselves.” 

“Travelercon in the divine plane?” Kord asked with a laugh, grabbing one of the tarts and dropping into his seat. 

“It would be entertaining,” Melora teased, pushing his own words back to him and taking one for herself. Kord hummed noncommittally but he was smiling. 

“It would be... an event. Though I can’t imagine your wife would approve.” 

“Erathis knows how to have a good time when prompted,” the Wildmother grinned, thinking back on a few particular events from their wilder days. It had been... a long time. 

“You suggest it then,” Kord said, both hands raised in an exaggerated surrender that made her laugh. 

“It doesn’t need to have anything to do with Artagan for us to have an event,” she pointed out with a grin. 

“But do you really want to try and organise everyone? Bringing us all together?” 

That thought made Melora hesitate. Frown as she considered the various gods and goddesses of Exandria. Finally she sighed. 

“There’s a reason most of us don’t socialise, isn’t there?” She asked rhetorically. 

The Storm Lord answered anyway. 

“Too many deity sized egos in a single space. It tends not to go well.” 

Melora sighed again and shook her head. 

“If only we’d never needed the bloody gate.” 

“I wouldn’t be against smacking a few heads directly,” Kord agreed, a low rumble of thunder providing emphasis to the words. His smile softened them a little into fondness, but the thunder god often sounded angrier than he felt. “Did I ever tell you about Grog Strongjaw?” 

A brow rose slowly as a smile spread across the Wildmother’s face. 

“Not in detail, no.” 

“Best get another pot,” the Storm Lord said with a heavy, only slightly melodramatic sigh. “We’re going to be here a while.” 

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Wear your masks, love yourselves, and try to be kind until next week when I melt the world with diabolical glee!


End file.
